A Burning Down the House Moment
Slipping out to Brighton beach. A carefully orchestrated retreat. To drink a beer and smoke a roll-up and write some words. Lying down on a rather beautiful linen throw edged with vibrant green embroidery purchased recently at the Sunday Market. I am Alone and trying to nurture a feeling of taking care, of self respect, of being allowed to value aesthetic beauty (just for the hell of it). For myself. Permission granted. There’s no point saving this rather beautiful fabric for a special occasion. Now is exactly the right time for using it - spontaneously and in the moment. Nothing too precious or deserving of feigned dignity. Utility is good.
Foiled again. No tobacco. Even though I allocated a rather lovely silver purse for the purposes of carrying smoking paraphernalia undetected (wishful thinking!) I clearly forgot to put it back — after last using it. Annoyance rises and I’m trying to let it go. This is becoming a bit of a theme. There is no avoiding the marked ease of late with which I can leap into maximum irritation! In peri menopausal circles it’s called ‘a burning down the house moment’ (BDHM).
The other day, for example, I was lying in the bath — purposefully — no phone, book nor radio. My daughter came in to ask me about something. I don’t remember what. There are so many things she wants to discuss, and generally I engage gracefully even when I’m too tired to really care. These conversations are of course valuable to me — but sometimes I seriously struggle to be a nice, kind, attentive mum. This, was one of those moments. I just wanted all external noise to STOP. Nothing more incoming please! My daughter, picking up on this, asked if I was OK. I smiled and said I was fine. She wasn’t convinced, “you don’t seem it” she said and tripped off back to her room. It’s annoying when she’s intuitive and brave in speaking her own mind especially when it’s to challenge my lazy thinking. “It’s not all about you mum”, has become one of her more frequent and freakishly accurate observations!
Even thought the bath water is cooling down I close my eyes and dive inside. Down into the dark internal recesses of my soul to discover what lurks there. “Come out, come out whatever you are” I demand out loud. With my eyes tightly shut -I find myself suddenly in possession of a baseball bat. I‘m standing in the kitchen naked and still dripping wet from the bath. Slowly and calmly I begin to move about the flat and I just start smashing things up. Quietly and gently sending the baseball bat into the computer screen, the windows, bringing the bat down on the plates and cups on the draining board. one by one. Smash. Smash Smash. Does this feel good I wonder? Is this helping? I have a vague sense of frustration and anger moving through and out of my body. That’s good right? Crash — as I drag the bat along the mantelpiece and all the bits and bobs tumble to the floor.
As the baseball bat comes forcefully down — I think about all the things I have to do that week and where I had just been…visiting my mum in Suffolk. Listening to the latest detailed update about my brothers polyamorous lover, helping with my daughters autobiography (very tricky to navigate, say too much your taking over, say too little you are not helping) and all the daily follow ups (also v detailed) from my partner about his various meetings. He is building a business on zoom (for months now and still no income), with many young interns from all around the world. They basically all live in the computer, on the dining table in our sitting room - in their own little boxes. They are there all day and every day. No more! I hoist up the computer and hurl it through the window. Ha!
This is a ‘Burning Down the House Moment (BDHM). An overwhelming and catastrophic sense of doom and also of not giving a fuck. You are Really fundamentally ‘over it’ and everyone! It’sDangerous. Standing on the doorstep of home, momentarily poised -gathering in conviction and courage. You’re about to walk out and away for ever from life and all the people in it — and genuinely You don’t care what manner of destruction you leave behind. It’s that fucking powerful. In that moment, you have resolve, your mind is clear and quiet. You could light a match and as you step boldly fourth into the unknown gently flick the glowing stick over your shoulder and keep on walking…the warmth at your back as the whole thing goes up and… You. Just. Don’t. Care. A beautiful moment of agency, creation and destruction. But hold on a goddam moment. Rewind…
This isn’t something that you are actually going to do right? There isn’t any real viable option in this scenario. You don’t really want to destroy everything and everyone you hold dear. But it’s a massive and sure sign that you May Have Had Enough (MHHE). You have Hit the Wall (HTW). That you might need a little bit of space and time for yourself. It’s a reminder to Attend. I don’t think I have every met anyone who actually wanted to burn the house down, however in that moment it’s really bloody hard to distinguish between the fantasy and reality (a bit like my baseball bat moment). It’s a flash point for sure when you really could just do exactly that. Relationships can end in this moment! Things can be said, that almost certainly weren’t meant to be so final. Whole lives can fall apart or be destroyed. Welcome to Peri Menopause. Most of you already know what I am talking about.
I’m still lying on my linen throw with the green embroidered edges, and I’m watching as the sea moves in and out. It almost anticipates the flood of feeling through my body. Steady, repeating, wave upon wave. Reliably thus. The rhythm of life. I’m thinking about how the sun rises and then goes down. Each day. Every day. Forever. Regardless of whether or not it is witnessed. The sun does sun stuff. The rain does its rainy stuff. Everything does something. It all has a purpose. And I’m wondering What the hell my purpose is ? What I’m supposed to be doing right now? And where my goddam tobacco has disappeared to!?